


Bad Boys Do It Well

by RosieTwiggs



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Party Boys, Recreational Drug Use, it's a weird combination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTwiggs/pseuds/RosieTwiggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tommy? Do you ever think about dying?”</p><p>Oliver and Tommy get high and talk about death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Boys Do It Well

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know what this is. It started out as something cute and morphed into, well, you’ll see.

The world is diamond sharp with a razor edge, and anything is possible.

Oliver loses his shit again to his right with zero warning, letting loose in a fit of giggles over - absolutely nothing at all.

But fuck him if it isn’t hilarious.

Tommy cracks up, laughing until his ribs hurt and he’s crying. They’re not even laughing at anything, jesus.

God, he loves this high.

Tommy’s feeling fidgety with adrenaline. He needs to be _doing_ something. His skin is practically vibrating as he settles back down into Oliver’s mattress, out of breath from laughing.

Oliver breathes in deeply next to him. He presses a hand to his chest, right over his heart, elbow poking at Tommy’s ribs. Tommy still remembers the first time they did this, they freaked out, thinking their hearts were going to beat right out of their chests. Tommy focuses on his own heart now, feeling the giddy rhythm, telling him to _do do do_ something, to go wild.

Only he feels Oliver’s mood shift suddenly next to him, and out of nowhere, he sobers up enough to ask:

“Tommy? Do you ever think about dying?”

The rhythm skips a beat, making his stomach swoop for a second. He hates that feeling.

“What the fuck, man? Where did that come from?”

Tommy turns his head, frowning, to find Oliver watching him, eyes totally serious.

“I just had a thought,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “I don’t know, who gives a shit? _Do_ you or not?”

Tommy opens his mouth and then closes it again, not really sure how to answer that. _Whether_ to answer that.

“Is this a conversation you really want to have right now? Because I’ve gotta tell you, this feels like a pot conversation to me. We could literally be doing _anything_ other than talking about this right now.”

They could be skinny dipping and doing shots in the pool. They could grab rackets and play midnight tennis. Fuck, they could run circuits around the Queen property and do cartwheels on the front lawn. Tommy feels the energy buzz like a hummingbird in his chest.

Oliver shakes his head. “Fine, I was just wondering.”

Oh, he’s gonna mope now. Tommy rolls his eyes at the ceiling. He counts to three in his head before looking back at Oliver. Then he sighs theatrically and says, “ _Fine_. You want to waste a perfectly good coke high talking about dying then _fine_.”

Oliver grins at him, and Tommy can’t help it, he smiles back. “Do I ever think about dying. No. Not really.” It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to tell Oliver that.

“Really? I think about it. Well, mainly about _how_ I would go if I could choose.”

Now _that_ Tommy really never has thought about.

"Like, I guess most people would say old age, but... I mean - then you'd have to be old you know?" Oliver grimaces. "I don't think I want to get old. Just - at some point your life stops and you're dead anyway, years before you actually go."

Tommy looks over at him, because on the one hand, he gets that, but there's a small part of him that feels like getting old with your best friend wouldn’t be the worst thing...

“What? You can’t see yourself ripping it up and living the good life in a cushy old age home? You and me, hitting on the hot nurses, raising hell on the shuffleboard court? Live fast, die old, bad boys do it well and all that shit?”

Oliver snorts and shakes his head.

“Okay, so what were you thinking? How will the great Oliver Queen go out when his time comes?”

Oliver mulls it over for a second. "I want to say drowning? Because it seems like it would be peaceful under the water. But everyone says that it hurts like fuck, so no thanks." He sighs deeply, like this fact is greatly inconvenient to him.

Tommy snorts at that, his nostrils tingling and still a little numb from the coke.

"I mean, I guess what you want is something painless and quick, right? Like your heart just stopping while you sleep..."

Oliver blinks up at the ceiling. "Yeah, that sounds ok, I guess..."

Tommy goggles at him. "You _guess_? Dying quickly and painlessly in your sleep sounds okay, you _guess_?"

"Well, I mean, it's kind of lacking on the scale of epic ways to go, isn’t it? It's not, like, freezing to death climbing Everest or anything."

"Ollie, you even _attempting_ to climb Everest is something I would pay money to see,” Tommy deadpans at him. "You wouldn't make it two steps out of base camp before you were whining about having to carry your own stuff."

It’s a testament to how true this is that Oliver doesn’t even try to argue the point. "Okay, fine, so not Everest. Maybe I get mauled by a lion on Safari."

"You going somewhere without air conditioning seems just as likely as you climbing Everest, not gonna lie, buddy."

“You’ve got to give me something to work with here Tommy.”

Tommy presses his lips together, raising his eyebrows.

“Fine. Thanks for nothing. So I'll just have to die in my sleep. Boring as fuck, but whatever."

Tommy giggles and Oliver shakes his head, clearly disgusted at this turn of events.

"What about you?" Oliver asks him.

And Tommy really never has given it a thought. He doesn’t really want to think about it now either, not seriously, so after a moment of contemplation, he says -

"Sex."

"Sex?"

He nods. "Yeah, sex. Stroke out when I'm balls deep in a gorgeous woman."

Oliver throws his head back on the bed and laughs, long and deep. "Tommy, what about the chick?" he manages to get out in between gasps.

Tommy shrugs. "I'm dead. What about her?"

This only makes Oliver laugh harder, and he grabs his pillow and swings, hitting tommy squarely in the face.

"Ow! Hey!!" he yells, muffled underneath it. He pulls it out of Oliver’s grip and flings it back at him.

"Fine,” he concedes.  “ _After_ sex. Like, let's say I have the greatest threesome that's ever been had. Blowjobs and bondage and fucking every which way from here to church with plenty of orgasms to go around. The girls have gone, and I'm basking in the afterglow. _Then_ I die."

"Girls, huh?"

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

Oliver shrugs. "I don't know. I'm just not sure how this supposedly epic threesome could have been as great as you say it was if I wasn't there, but sure, okay."

"You're going to sulk about this? Really?"

Oliver shrugs again.

"I am _dead_ and you're sulking because _you_ weren't the cause of it."

Oliver heaves a deep and intensely dramatic sigh, and Tommy rolls his eyes so hard he’s surprised they don’t fall out of his own head.

"I just can't believe you'd prefer to have a threesome with two chicks instead of with me."

"Oh my _god_ , Oliver!"

Tommy rolls over so he's on top of him, shaking his head and laughing while Oliver looks up at him, mirth dancing in eyes blown wide on coke. He’s still itching to _do_ something, to take action. He’s a ball of energy in a world of endless possibilities, and all this talk about dying when he feels so alive is making his skin vibrate.

Oliver’s warm and pliant beneath him, and he can feel his cock, semi hard through his jeans. Tommy grinds his hips down, making Oliver groan, his friend’s eyes falling shut with a smile.

Tommy leans down and kisses him, hard and sharp and with every bit of vitality he feels thrumming through him, biting on Oliver’s lip and stroking his tongue into his mouth, wanting nothing more than to taste that same life coming from his best friend.

Oliver sits up with a moan, pushing Tommy back, and immediately grabs his shirt and lifts it up over his head. Yes. Finally some action.

Death comes to all, he supposes. But they’re alive _now_ , and that’s all that matters.

 


End file.
